


Qsturbation

by releasetheglitch



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Anal Beads, M/M, Masturbation, Panties, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 15:55:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4311339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/releasetheglitch/pseuds/releasetheglitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q is tired and lonely while his lover is away. He decides to take things into his own hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Qsturbation

The familiar scent of his flat, all lemon fabric softener and pine wood polish, greeted Q’s nose like an old lover as he staggered through the front door. Another day, another international crisis threatening the well-being of the collective British population. He stared at his reflection in the hallway mirror and sighed. He was amassing quite the collection of crow’s feet around his eyes. Even Bond could no longer mistake him for a spotty teen.

To make it worse, James Bond, his boyfriend of almost fourteen months, wasn’t even home. Diplomacy mission in Japan. It was to be expected from dating a secret agent, of course, but Q could really have used a cuddle and a snog after the stressful day he’d had.

He dragged himself to the kitchen for a meal of leftover casserole, spooning it directly out of the dish now that no one was there to roll their eyes at him. He debated calling Bond, but it would be…three in the morning in Japan. James would likely not mind, but Q could not really justify disturbing the other man’s sleep, not for something so trivial.

The clock ticked. A splash of tomato sauce landed on his shirt sleeve. Christ, was he getting old? Was this what old people did; sit on their kitchen counter on a Friday night eating leftovers, not a single plan for the weekend ahead, not even the slightest intention to stay up past nine? Would he be exploring retirement fund options and hollering at wayward kids to get off his lawn next?

It was the clothes, he finally decided, staring down with distaste at his dress shirt and crumpled tie. What he needed was a long, hot shower and the chance to slip into something comfortable. Something that would make him feel less like the grave-faced professional he had become and more like the indulgent, reckless youth of his glory days.

_Glory days._ Get a grip, Q, who talked like that?

Casserole forgotten, Q stepped into the bathroom, already reaching for the faucet. But…did he really want a shower? The shelves were lined with bottles in every colour of the rainbow. Bond was a hedonist, to his absolute non-surprise. He read some of the labels on the jars he had ignored up til now: Penhaligon’s Lavandula bath oil. Amouage Gold cleansing gel. Tom Ford wood soap bar— _seriously_? Who the fuck bought designer soap?

Well, why not? Q was indulging, after all.

He chose the lavender-scented bath oil and a bottle of bubbles that smelled like honey and vanilla. Their fragrance quickly filled the small bathroom, and Q sighed happily. He wasn’t even in the tub yet, and he was already beginning to relax. As a finishing touch, he dimmed the lights and lit a few candles, bathing his skin in a dark bronze glow that gave the illusion of a tan, instead of the pale, almost sickly shade it usually was.

The bath was ready, steaming rising into the air, foaming merrily. Q shed his clothes with eager haste, leaving the hateful articles in a messy heap on the floor and his glasses on the counter of the sink. He moaned out loud when the warm water touched his skin, sinking into the tub until his nose was almost submerged. Gods, this was incredible. He could feel his tightly-wound muscles relaxing in the heat, his skin drinking up the water like it had been dying of thirst. He wiggled his toes in the foamy bubbles, letting out a surprised chuckle when they popped, tickling gently.

How had he never taken Bond up on the offer of a joint bath before?

Q floated in the warmth of the tub, feeling cradled on all sides, enveloped by a haze of lavender, vanilla, and honey. He leaned his head back on an inflatable pillow—Bond’s genius again—and closed his eyes. One hand stroked against his thigh, marvelling at how soft the skin was, how plump and silky the expensive products made him.

He’d always had coarse hair on his body. One of the perks of being dark-haired. It wasn’t a big deal, of course.  But now he found it rather hateful, the smooth slide of his hand on flesh interrupted by prickly strands of leg hair.

He eyed the disposable razor on the counter. In for a penny…

The first glide of the razor made him giggle in shock. Was he actually doing this? But he couldn’t back down now. He would look ridiculous with a strip of bare skin on his calf.

It was slow work. Q had never realized how much hair was on his body. The coarse strands got tangled in the razor, so every few strokes he would have to rinse out the blade. There was something satisfying, however, about watching dark hair fall away, revealing creamy flesh underneath. His skin felt more sensitive without the layer of body hair. More responsive to touch. Which reminded him.

He glanced down at his cock. At the nest of dark curls around the rosy member.

When he drained the bath, there was not a strand of hair to be found below his neck. Q peeked at himself in the mirror, and _oh_ , how different the image was to the tired young man of hardly an hour before! His skin glowed, fresh and pink. His hair fell in soft curls around his flushed, shining face. He wrapped himself in a fluffy bathrobe, tying it securely around him. The downy fluff swished across his bollocks as he moved. Tickling. Teasing.

It was obviously, really, what he wanted to do next. His cock, his bollocks, even the curve of his arse, too sensitive not to explore. His movements were languid, relaxed, as he clambered onto the king-sized bed he shared with James. Q buried his head in the feathered pillow, inhaling deeply the lingering traces of his lover’s cologne. He could smell honey and vanilla on himself, the scents melding together into something at once sensual and familiar.

If bathroom indulgences, were James’ domain, bedroom toys were his. Q reached into his bottom bedside drawer, grinning to himself at the myriad colours and shapes that threatened to spring out. Most of his toys were commercial, the best that money could buy. Others, he designed and trialed himself.

He removed the bottle of astroglide and a strand of pearl anal beads, surveying his treasures critically. Beautiful, of course, but something was missing. He wanted something that would frame his newly-shaved skin, something that would complement the acres of creamy flesh that he was so excited about.

But of course! He dug into his pants drawer. There, at the back, he closed fingers around satin and silk. This was surely it.

Months, ago, in a fit of drink-fueled adrenaline, Q had purchased for himself a pair of knickers. He’d chickened out upon receiving the package though, shoving the tiny scrap into the back of the drawers before James could see and comment on them. But every once in a while, he would pull them out, fingering the soft fabric, and imagine what they would look like on himself.

Before he could lose his courage, he slid them on.

Oh, it was even better than he had imagined. The transparent peach fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination. His ruddy cockhead peeking out of the top, already glistening with faint moisture. He was glad he had shaved; public hair would be so unbecoming when contrasted with the French floral embroidery. When he flipped over, he could see the way the knickers cut across the top half of his arse cheeks, making the mounds look rounder. Plumper. Absolutely fuckable.

Q smiled in glee as he lifted the elastic band with one finger, letting it snap back across his pale skin, leaving a faint red mark. This was going to be _spectacular._

He propped another pillow under his chin before coating his fingers with generous amounts of lubricant. The first finger breached easily, stretched under his knickers—it would be a shame to take them off now. He purred at the heat, the familiar pressure against his inner channel, the slight resistance as he dragged his finger in and out. A shuddery gasp escaped his lips when he brushed his other hand against his cock, through the silky knickers. The touch fluttering and teasing, not nearly enough to offer gratification.

He found his prostate with ease and bumped against it. Immediately, little red-hot sparks of pleasure thrummed through his body. Q buried his face in the pillow, hard, letting his moans dissipate into the fabric. He teased himself, slipping his fingers around the sensitive gland, barely brushing up against it. One finger was barely enough, and his body cried out for more, aching hungrily. Still, he denied himself. Using only the delicate touches that made him frot back onto his fingers with desperation.

When at last Q could not bear the burning need inside him, he slid his finger out with a wet _plop_ and picked up the strand of anal beads. The largest of them was slightly bigger than three of his fingers, but Q didn’t care. He wanted to feel the stretch, the satisfaction of his muscles giving way to something hard and unyielding.

The first three beads slid in without any trouble. Q flipped himself over, resting his feet flat on the bed with bent knees sprawled apart. When he looked down, he could see his throbbing cock, distending the delicate knickers and smearing precum across its front. He moaned, gripping his cock firmly through the knickers. His hole fluttered around the beads, seeking gratification, and he rewarded it with another bead.

The next ones were bigger, harder to fit inside. He pushed a bead in with one finger, another finger resting on the rim of his hole, luxuriating in its sucking motions as it closed hungrily as the bead slipped in. Q panted, hips moving in quick rabbit-thrusts into the warm air, cock pumping away at nothing.

He felt so full, filled to the brim with the cool, slippery beads. All thoughts of work, of codes and survival probabilities and budgets slipped from his mind, leaving only the animalistic desire for completion. The last bead, he purposefully teased himself with, letting it slip halfway in and simply sit there. He traced the rim of his distended hole, feeling it quiver under the onslaught of stimulation, pulling the bead back when he felt it was beginning to slip completely inside.

It slipped in, completing the set. He keened, wet, needy noises escaping into the still air. Every time he clenched, he could feel the heavy pressure on his prostate, unescapable. A layer of gleaming sweat covered his abdomen. _Might need another shower after this, he mused half-heartedly._

His hand sped up on his cock, pumping with furious abandon. He shifted his hips and felt the beads shift inside him, offering a different distribution of pressure with every move. He clutched at the strand with a sobbed whine, tugging the end with shaky fingers, hard enough to pull the entire strand out at once.

His mind blanked. Each bead nudged against his prostate as it was pulled out, setting off an unstoppable chain of explosive pleasure that Q could not, would not prevent. Q came with a shout, hot cum splattering against his stomach in tacky strings. His knees fell to the bed with a heavy thump as he gasped for breath, feeling worn out, feeling warm and fulfilled in obscene ways.

Q rolled away from the wet spot, too awash in post-orgasm glow to bother with cleaning up. Before he passed out, he managed to pull his mobile from his bedside table and snap a picture of his cum-streaked thighs and stomach, his sated cock, the strand of anal beads tossed beside him, the knickers darkened with wetness. What an image he must’ve made! He sent it without an accompanying message, eyes fluttering in a futile attempt to stay open.

Halfway across the world, James Bond choked on his morning coffee.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Knickers: http://www.agentprovocateur.com/us-main-nav/lingerie/knickers/info/yoshie-brief~nude
> 
> Anal beads: http://www.coco-de-mer.com/products/pearl-anal-beads/


End file.
